"But if she isn't, then we don't want her. One of us ought to reconnoiter." And the major hesitated. "Fitz, you go," he said. And this rather surprised me, because naturally the major ought to have gone himself, he being the leader. "I've got a side-ache, somehow," he added, apologizing. "It isn't much--but it might interfere with my crawling." Fitz was only too ready to do the stalking. He left his pack, and with a detour began sneaking upon the lean-to. We watched, breathless. But the figures never stirred. Fitz came out, opposite, and from bush to bush and tree to tree he crept nearer and nearer, with little darts from cover to cover; and at last very cautiously, on his hands and knees; and finally wriggling on his belly like a snake. 'Twas fine stalking, and we were glad that the Red Fox Scouts were here to see. But it seemed to us that Fitz was getting too near. However, the figures did not move, and did not know--and now Fitz was almost upon them. From behind a tree only a yard away from them he stretched his neck and peered, for half a minute. Then he crawled backward, and disappeared. Presently he was with us again. "It's they, sir," he reported. "Bat and Walt. They're asleep. And that is Sally, I'm certain. I know her by the white spot on her back." "We must have her," said the major. "She's ours. We'll get her and pack her, so we can travel better." "Can we catch her, all right?" queried Red Fox Scout Van Sant. "We're liable to wake those two fellows up, aren't we?" "What if we do?" put in his partner, Scout Ward. "Three of us can guard them, and the other two can chase the burro." "No," said Major Henry. "I think we can rope her and be off before those renegades know anything about it. Can you, Fitz?" Fitz nodded, eager. "Then take the rope, and go after her." Fitz did. He was a boss roper, too. You wouldn't believe it, of a one-armed boy, but it was so. All we Elk Scouts could throw a rope some. A rope comes in pretty handy, at times. Most range horses have to be caught in the corral with a rope, and knowing how to throw a rope will pull a man out of a stream or out of a hole and will perhaps save his life. But Fitz was our prize roper, because he had practiced harder than any of us, to make up for having only one arm. The way he did was to carry the coil on his stump, and the lash end in his teeth; and when he had cast, quick as lightning he took the end from between his teeth ready to haul on it. Major Henry might have gone, himself, to get the credit and to show what he could do; but he showed his sense by resigning in favor of Fitz. So now at the command Fitz took the rope from him and shook it out and re-coiled it nicely. Then, carrying it, he sneaked through the trees, and crossed the creek, farther up, wading to his ankles, and advanced upon Sally. Sally divided her attention between him and us, and finally pricked her ears at him alone. She knew what was being tried.